Learning Curves
by Brindabella
Summary: Amy is put into an awkward situation and it slowly makes her realise her love for Alex, and just how much her career, as well as his, means to her. Formally titled 'Taking The Good With The Bad'. Please review!


Date begun: December 9th 2005

Date finished: December 21st 2005

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to the writer. They remain property of Channel 7 and Southern Star

Dedication: For all the Amy fans

Song credits: Tina Turner, Rob Thomas

© Riss 2005

**Learning Curves**

My police career has been long, illustrious and fulfilling. But I am not ready to give up. This is all that I know. I couldn't do anything else but solve crime. Maybe it was what I was born to do. Some days I feel like it is. Actually, scrap that. A lot of days. I see people come in and out of this station that have led lives just like mine, who were treated the same way I was, who didn't know what the hell to do like I did. And if I can help them, then the world is a little better off, because then they won't ever have to suffer again. Maybe that's what makes me want to be a cop forever.

I remember my days as a young constable in my first station. The sergeant there was a hard bastard. But it was the only way to work. I respected him so much after just my first day and have never forgotten good ol' Sergeant Barrett. He taught me that the truth was the only thing worth striving for, and that even if you struggled for the longest time to discover the truth about a crime, it was always worth it in the end as the satisfaction was the greatest reward. Over the years I learnt that he was right about the truth thing, but I guess he didn't have much of a life and therefore could search for the truth until he was blue in the face. He's the only person I've ever met who puts everything on hold, even lunch with his Mum on Mothers Day, to uncover the truth. I know I am exactly the same, and I'm not ashamed to say I have no life either. It's just who I am and I don't think it can be changed. God, I've probably spent more hours in the police station than I have in my own bed at home. I should get the 'most addicted to work' award.

But yes, getting back to the truth. Why people commit crimes is beyond me. But while they do it means I get to be a cop. Nothing else would suit me I don't think. At least police work is exciting, adrenalin filled, rewarding and dangerous. I don't understand how people can be hair dressers or shop assistants – same thing day after day. With police work I get to live on the edge and it's the best feeling in the world. Although I'd never tell anyone that. Sure it can be as depressing as hell and I've seen so many things I wouldn't wish for anybody to see, but I just take it in and move. Maybe I am hardened and insensitive, but it's the only way I can get through a grisly case. If I got caught up in every heinous crime, I'd have been a crying, shivering, scared mess in the bathroom at least 10 years ago. And I refuse to be like that. If I was like that I don't think it would be possible to be a cop. I can't tell you how many of my sergeants have told me and my colleagues to not get personally involved in a case. Of course we all do once in a while, and that's cos we're human, but I force myself to not let that happen to me too often. I don't think I can be anyone but Amy Fox, nerves of steel, detective.

Maybe that's why I'm not too close with all my colleagues. Especially here at Mt Thomas, my current posting. I've been friends with past colleagues, but even then it was not a friendship really, we just respected and admired the work each other did, we never caught up on the weekend or went to see a movie or had a girly night out. I'm sorry, but I'm just not that sort of person. I've been a private person my whole life and I'm pretty sure nothing can change that. My colleagues at Mt Thomas are a great bunch of people, I admit, even though I know I give them the shits sometimes, bossing them around and yelling at them, but I figure they have to learn. If they get to work with any other detectives during their careers, chances are they will be a hell of a lot softer than I am, so they'll have a nice treat won't they? Plus, all the d's I worked with as a constable treated me exactly the same, so I am just doing what I was taught. The team here had PJ, the d with the biggest heart in Victoria, for way too long and they got too used to him and how he was so nice. Then they got me and it was a shock and a half, I could tell. I feel like the team here doesn't have the same passion I do when it comes to solving crimes, but I suppose that is a bit of an unfair judgement. I don't know them enough to really make a statement like that so pretend I didn't just say that. Like I said before, maybe they have lives and so therefore don't have the same passion I do. Maybe you need to have no life to have a lot of passion, cos hell, I don't have anything else to be passionate about do I? I reckon the rest of the team have plenty of other things outside of the station that they put all their passion into. Although if I was their sergeant I'd make sure it was their police work that they put the most of their passion into.

Although I must say, Evan does have a lot of passion. He's really getting there. Maybe he is starting to have no life since his thing with Susie didn't work out. I don't care too much for office relationships, although I suppose I can't speak because I nearly shared a kiss with PJ before he left. That was frightening as I never thought it'd happen, but I guess it was bubbling inside me and I didn't realize it. I was almost thankful he left so I didn't have to deal with it. I'm crap at things like that. Again another reason I have no life. But anyway, Jonesy. He could be the perfect partner I must say. He has the drive I admired in Sergeant Barrett. He goes a little over the top sometimes and can get annoying because in a million little ways he is still _such_ a uniform, but I am slowly changing him.

I still don't think anyone at Mt Thomas has the experience PJ or I have though. They're probably calling me a dinosaur now cos I have had so much experience. Being a cop was all I could do, so I signed up as soon as was legally possible. If I didn't, I'd probably still be living in a refuge, pondering what to do with my shitty life. At least I have something to work towards with a police career. And it's sort of a never ending thing – I just want to help people who need help and I figure there are always going to be people who need help, so I guess I'll always be in a job.

The other day I found myself thinking of Lanie again. She's been gone for months now and like I expected, not a peep. I knew I wouldn't hear from her, but it didn't mean in my heart I didn't long to just receive a phone call. Even a message passed on from someone else. But nothing. I can't help but worry. She is almost the picture of me when I was a teenager. Except I never would've gone to live in St Kilda. Even then, even after all I'd been through, I knew St Kilda would probably just make my life worse. I was smart enough to realize that. Being on my own meant I could make those sort of decisions – no one was there to stop me or discipline me. But then there was also no one there to protect me and love me. And I know, I just _know_ that is exactly what's happening to Lanie right now. She can do as she pleases, and she's the sort of girl who'll make the wrong decisions, like deciding to work in a brothel just for the great pay she'd get, and she'll look back on it in twenty years and want to go back to that night I gave her my business card and do everything differently. She will wish she didn't flick my card out the bus window. I know I said I'm hardened from stuff like this, but this one nips it in the bud, and I still think about her. Sometimes I lay in bed at night and get the most incredible urge to jump in the car and drive to St Kilda and get her back, bundle her up into the car and then take her back home and sing her to sleep. Just so that she live simply for a little longer. Just so that she can be a kid living in a kid world doing kid things rather than thinking she had to be an adult in a cruel world.

Well the men come in these places,

And the men are all the same.  
You don't look at their faces,  
And you don't ask their names.

You don't think of them as human,  
You don't think of them at all.  
You keep your mind on the money,  
Keeping your eyes on the wall.

But I can't. That's the down side of police work. No personal involvement. When I really think about it, everything I do as a d I get personally involved in because I put all my energies into it, but I just have to be sure not to get too close. I've seen it cloud my colleagues judgment before and I won't let myself do that.

I have to force myself not to yell and scream at some of the people I encounter though. Some crims I'll just never understand the reason behind their actions. I guess it's why I am on this side of the law. I had a hard time when we caught that woman who killed her children. I couldn't understand why, when she had been blessed so greatly with gorgeous kids, that she could want to kill them. I didn't care that she was saving them from herself. She'd been lucky enough to have kids, to create them with someone she loved, to have them grow inside her, and then she killed them. It kept me up at night for weeks. One day I want kids – one day – and I'll probably never get to, and there she was murdering such poor defenceless little things. I didn't understand how she could be driven to do that. I still don't. I cannot understand fully to this day what depression and mental illness does to people.

Maybe as a d I'm trying to be a hero. I already said I want to help people. I guess that is the same as saving them, and that's what heroes do right? I wanted to be a hero to Chloe, but she couldn't understand and I didn't want to tell her why I needed to be the hero. Then she would've grown up like I did. She probably will anyway I guess, and I hate that. If I can stop bastards like Uncle John from ruining anybodies life, then every single day in the office will be worth it. I know secretly it's what I joined the police force for all those years ago.

Once, when I was stationed in Kings Cross for 5 months – my shortest ever posting, I hated Sydney – I met a pro in an alley after a drug raid on a massage parlour early one morning. She had just finished a job and was feeling awful – looked it too – and she saw me waiting by the car, ready to load the haul into the boot like a good little constable. She walked smoothly over, wearing the shortest denim mini I'd ever seen, so short it almost couldn't be considered a piece of clothing, and a tight leather corset with a silver zip right down the front. I imagined her for a split second in normal clothes, clothes that I wore on the weekends or around the house, and I smiled. She could've led a great life. I think she saw my smile and that reassured her I wasn't going to slam her up against the side of the car and pat her down like most of my superiors at the time would have. When I was young and in uniform I actually used to give people a chance. Somehow I don't think I do that anymore.

Anyway, she walked over to me, and I could see she wasn't your every day streetwalker. Maybe she was one of the veterans, although I hoped not as she didn't look a day over 21. But then on the streets of the Cross I know 21 is considered ancient almost. She leant against the car next to me and patted down her hair, adjusted her top and pulled up her boots. It reminded me of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, just before she speaks to Richard Gere for the first time in his Lotus.

I'm your private dancer,

A dancer for money

I'll do what you want me to do

I'm your private dancer

A dancer for money

And any old music will do

"Havin' a good night?" she asked, a small smile on her face. It wasn't the 'I'm going to stand here and take the piss out of you cos you're a pig' sort of smile though, so I decided to answer her question.

"Yeah," I nodded, folding my arms and letting my guard down a little bit – she seemed nice enough. And she was. We chatted for almost half an hour, until the team came out with their arms full of smack and ecstasy and I had to pack it all into the car as they went back for armfuls more. She flitted off, back into the dusky alleys that make up the Cross, back to wherever she had come from and back to whoever she associated with. I thought about her all day, and realized then, as a cop, I was sure to meet many more people like her. She was a little different though. She was the sort you could rely on for some info, or a name or some news that was going around the Cross. News always spread like wildfire through the Cross, because chances were it was about drugs or some new pro and everybody who worked the Cross wanted some of it or wanted to get rid of her. And this pro I talked to that night was the sort who would work on both sides. She'd give someone like me some info, but she'd still have sex with men for money and allow them to exploit her. It was so sad. I drove away from that raid wishing I could help her. That's the problem with young cops – as an 'old' cop now, I know this – they all want to save the world. There was no job too big. At the time I wanted to rescue everybody in Kings Cross, get them all out of the brothels, get them all off drugs and reunite them all with their families, and the thing was, I thought I could do it. I thought it was possible. I soon realized it was not though. It didn't stop me from trying though. I soon latched onto the motto that I couldn't save the world but I could try. I still say that to myself some days. It helps to keep you going. And I know I'll die trying.

Anyone else would see this side of the job as depressing, and I suppose it is, but I just see it as part of the job. Up pops the hardened Amy Fox again! The Boss said to me once that if we dwell on things too much we get too caught up and fall too far behind and as a cop you can't afford to have that happen to you. But it is depressing. I've seen so much death and if I wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep sometimes my mind wonders to the deaths I've encountered and they frighten me so much. I've seen some gruesome deaths all right. Some really sad ones too – people that just never deserved to die. Usually it's the result of others stupidity. Like drunk drivers. God I could throttle them sometimes. Last Christmas when Jonesy and Susie attended a fatal on Christmas Eve and found a mother and her baby dead I knew how they felt. It is so unfair and you get back that 'why can't I save the world?' feeling. You wish you could've saved that mother and her baby. And the next road victim. And the next. And the next.

Only once can I remember a true success story of mine. Again, it was when I was young and naïve, but it worked, unlike most things I tried to do back then. It was just before I got posted to Kings Cross and instead of going to a station they put me in a crisis centre for 2 long weeks. It was a jumble of a place. There were other cops there. And d's. And people who could give you legal advice. And counselors. I guess you could call it a drop in centre. It was right in the thick of Kings Cross and all sorts of people came through those heavy glass doors. Teenagers came there when they didn't know what the hell to do about whatever mess they were in. Parents came there to see if their kids had dropped in because they'd had a blue and run away. Whistleblowers took refuge there. Druggies got dragged in and leant on for info. Basically all sorts of crap happened there. It was a crazy place to work - just a month before I began they'd had a drive by shooting. I do remember on my first day being surprised that the windows of the place were not etched with graffiti, because every other place on the street did. Then I found out about the drive by and realized that was why all the windows were new. It was a crazy place but I grew to love it. It was like Manhattan, it just never stopped. Night and day, it just never stopped. And it gave me a taste of Kings Cross like nothing else could. It also eased me into the area. Had I been dumped in a station straight away I would've probably quit on day 2. The crisis centre showed me ropes that most people wouldn't get shown.

One day a girl walked in and because she didn't look like she was in trouble or needed urgent attention no one paid her much attention when she first arrived. People bustled past her, but from across the office I noticed her and decided to be bold and go and see what her little story was. Turned out she had an alcoholic father, a street walking, heroin addicted mother and she was sick of it. She looked like your normal Mt Thomas girl actually. That's why no one paid any attention to her. Not many kids in Kings Cross wore a school uniform – because most of them didn't go to school – but she did, and she had just scored the wrong set of parents. She even had an abusive boyfriend. And she wanted out. I could sympathise, and I promised to help her out. I got her set up in a mission, where she could go to school still, be away from those who were only dragging her down and got her out of the Cross. Ever since then I've done the same things for a lot more people and so often it hasn't worked out. They've slunk back to their old ways, or given in to that abusive boyfriend, or been tempted by drugs again. But not this girl. She made it work. She sent me a letter months later, I don't even know how she tracked me down, but she did, and she thanked me so sincerely. It really touched my heart, but it wasn't me who'd done it. I'd just got her started. She made it work. She was the sort of person I'd admired back then, and I still do actually. I guess I was the hero in her eyes though. It made me feel good, but it felt even better knowing I'd helped her to a better life.

I met Garth when I was in Kings Cross. He was a lowly pleb then too, just like me. Like a bad smell he seemed to follow me everywhere. At the time I didn't mind, we were two of a kind for a while. Briefly I lived in a little fantasy world, thinking that he understood me and loved me. He probably did in his own way I suppose, but not enough. We drifted apart and then back together, apart and then back together, for more than ten years. But we discovered each others past and it tarnished whatever it was we had. His past was too close to home for me and I couldn't handle it. I didn't want to be reminded of my abuse every time I kissed him or fell asleep beside him. I'll admit though, it was so nice for a while there, before we knew about each others abuse, because I thought he really did understand me. He was my protector and I felt safe. It was nice to be able to settle into his arms in the couch after work or eat dinner with him in a restaurant. I know no-one here would probably believe me if I told them Garth and I lived together for a while, but we did, and while it lasted, it was nice. I haven't had anything like that since, which is pretty sad.

You know one thing that Sergeant Barrett hated was corruption. He hated it more than a cop who wasn't willing to work for the truth, if that were possible. When Sergeant Barrett was my sergeant, I worked with a senior constable called Camille Garcia. Camille was scared of corruption. She always thought that somehow someone would get her mixed up in it, and her career would be over. It made me a little afraid of it too. But it didn't happen in Sergeant Barrett's station, thank God. So Camille and I had nothing to worry about. And I didn't encounter it ever until I came to this little country town, which was beginning to become a bit of a legend in Melbourne. Everybody talked about Mt Thomas because for such a spit of a town it sure had a huge crime rate. I know it didn't used to be like this, but now that it was, it was the sort of place I wanted to be stationed when I truly considered my options. I was glad to make the move here.

But then Camille's old fear reared its ugly head. In Mt Thomas of all places! But then I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, after all the things I'd heard about this place. Still, I have got to know everyone here pretty well, or so I thought, and I didn't think any of them were capable of something so wrong. In the academy, above all else, they talk about corruption the most. On graduation day you take an oath for goodness sake. I guess the temptation is just too great sometimes though. I have seen coppers come and go, shunned out of the force labeled by us all as bent. I always lost a huge amount of respect for them, even if I once really admired them. Once you bend the rules, you're really no longer a cop. Or at least that's my opinion. You can't be a cop and do whatever you want. For most of us that rule isn't as restricting as it sounds because it's what we live for and what we want to do so the rules are not a problem.

I confronted Alex as soon as I found out. How could I keep something like that inside? He should be grateful I spoke to him about it first and not the boss, or even worse, Falcon Price or ESD. "The other day I was told you were bent," I whispered, leaning over his desk at the end of the day, my eyes narrow as I stared at him. I think I must've really shocked him because he jumped a little, the pen sliding across his page as he stopped writing to look at me. I know I had my accusing face on – I've practiced it in the mirror, so I know how my face feels when I do it. Sometimes it's the only way to crack some stupid crim. And it did the trick on Alex that day too. His head snapped up so fast I know if that'd been me I would've seriously jarred a vertebrae.

"What!" he whispered coarsely in reply. His eyes were huge - they reminded me of my own when I saw my first fatal. He was speaking so quietly it was a good thing I was leaning in so close to him on his desk. I was looming, something I know intimidates anyone and my shadow cast a darkness right over Alex and his desk. "I am not bent," he was making sure no one else could hear even though there was practically no one left in the station anyway. I could hear Susie packing up her things in the mess room, ready to head home, but Alex was so preoccupied with what I had just said that I doubt he even knew where he was. "Who the hell told you that?" his brows were furrowed the way they always get when he frowns and is trying to figure something out.

"Is it true?" I was keeping my statements short and simple, not letting the situation slip out of my control. And I know Alex was smart enough to realize that I had not answered him, simply shot another question at him. He was beginning to lose his cool too, I could tell. He shoved his pen back into the drawer and got up from his desk skewing his chair at least a metre to his left where it banged into Susie's desk, knocking over her own pen holder. He stalked into the mess room, knocking Susie's shoulder as he brushed quickly past her.

"Hey!" she was surprised – I didn't blame her. This was not Alex Kirby. "What's wrong?" she looked into his eyes as I watched his expression.

"Nothing ok!" he yelled. "Nothing is wrong! Everything is fine! God, why is everyone on my back?" now I knew he'd definitely lost it. Susie's eyes opened wide with shock and I could see the hurt in them. Alex had never spoken to her that way before, or any of us. He slumped into a chair at the table and rested his head on the surface, facing away from Susie and I. With a truly pissed off look on her face Susie threw her arms in the air and walked away, muttering about only trying to be a friend as she exited the station.

Alex had his head turned away from me, and this alone was giving off all the signals that he wanted to be left alone, but nothing was going to stop me. Sergeant Barrett always said that about me. That I just couldn't leave things alone. I can faintly remember my mother even saying that to me – that I could never leave well enough alone. And I suppose with a colleague being bent the ideal thing to do would be to leave it alone, not get involved and let them sort it out themselves. That way I couldn't be implicated in whatever the mess was and I couldn't be blamed for anything. But for some reason I couldn't walk away from Alex. Maybe I'm not such an uncaring bitch after all. Maybe I do have a heart. Because I couldn't walk away from Alex. I just couldn't. I was involved now and there was no way out. The funny thing was, I wasn't upset at that prospect – I just wanted to find out what the deal was. It didn't concern me at the time that I was involved in the mess now, because…because it was Alex. He was a colleague, a friend, and at the time somewhere deep inside there was something else too, but as hard as I tried to pull it out of my gut I couldn't.

I sat down beside him, even being brave enough to touch his arm, which was a weak ploy to get him to talk to me. It took a lot more than that to get him to spill his guts though, and so I sat beside him in that chair for three hours before he even looked up. I had thought he'd fallen asleep – I was almost asleep myself – but suddenly he turned his head in his arms and one eye looked at me as the other remained closed, nestled in the crook of his elbow.

"I'm up shit creek Foxy," he mumbled. Him calling me that made me smile. I reckon it must've been that that encouraged him to keep talking. Any other time he'd called me Foxy I'd always blown a gasket and he'd shut up pretty damn fast, but this time, when I smiled a smile I knew was friendly and understanding, he seemed to gain the courage to tell me what had happened.

"What've you done you dickhead?" I asked, that smile still on my face. I couldn't be the stuck up, hard edged detective right then in the mess room. I had to be Amy. Just Amy.

He sighed a huge sigh and I noticed his face redden as he began to speak. "I guess it's a case of forbidden love," he sighed again.

"You playing the Romeo are you? With someone you shouldn't have?" I smiled, teasing him.

"Yeah," he answered, sounding more down about it than one would expect. He got up and shoved his hands in his pockets, pacing backwards and forwards in front of the counter where I'd made countless early morning and late night coffees. "But it's over, I can't do it anymore. The pressure's too much."

"What do you mean Alex?" I was so confused. "Do you love her?"

"I thought I did. But she was just using me…Jesus, never thought the day'd come when I'd be used," he whispered to himself.

"Alex, Alex, I don't understand you," it was becoming frustrating. "What's the hitch with this girl? She can't be that bad!"

"Her father's a bloody stand over man Amy!" he yelled before lowering his voice when he saw the look I gave him. "And a dealer – she wanted me for inside info for her father. I was used!"

"And now you've dumped her?" I asked.

"Well of course! Do you think I want to watch my career go down the drain?" he ran his hands through his hair in desperation.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing yet, I did it by text this morning…God I knew she was dodgy, always asking me questions," the look on his face said it all – he knew he was in a bad situation.

"And let me guess, while you guys were together you had a lot of steamy passion sessions and you promised her the world?" despite not being good with men, I seem to know their inner workings.

"Yeah," he answered, sitting down again and putting his head back in his hands. I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, tilting my head to look into his eyes.

"Alex?" I lowered my voice for some reason. He lifted his head and looked at my hand on his shoulder before he looked at my face. It made me feel unbelievably awkward, but my hand seemed to stay there. "It'll be ok," I wanted to reassure him. As much as he irritated me in the office, after hours he wasn't such a bad guy. It reminded me of Garth actually. In the office he was always strictly business, never ever letting on that we were together to anyone. He treated me exactly the way he treated everyone else in the station, even when we were alone in a patrol car, or grabbing lunch. But the moment we walked through the door at home he was all mine. It was almost like he changed faces – he had all the time in the world for me, and we would lie on the couch and watch television and eat Chinese takeaway. His used to wrap his arms around me and hold me tightly, rubbing my arms if he thought I felt cold or whispering that I was beautiful into my ear. Because I couldn't have all those things at work during the day I lived to have them at night when we were off duty and I appreciated it all the more. And it made me slip into the two faces mode with my life as well. At work I was Amy Fox, a member of the Victoria Police. At home though I was just Amy.

I didn't go to the pub as just Amy much, if ever. So I never got to see Alex off duty to get to know him the way I did Garth – and dare I say it, fall in love with him the way I did Garth. So seeing a helpless Alex Kirby sitting in front of me feeling like his world was falling apart was almost like a breath of fresh air, something I'd been holding my breath for, but not even realising it. My whole being was plagued with reservations about him and I – in fact I always had reservations about everything, except police work. The day I left Sergeant Barrett's station he said that the greatest thing about me was that I always knew what I was doing on the job and I was never afraid. But outside the office I was always afraid, and I still am. So I was afraid that my hand on Alex's shoulder was going to change everything. But I couldn't take my hand away or stop looking into his eyes. And it did change everything.

Half an hour later we were at my place, steaming Thai food boxes in front of us. None of my colleagues in Mt Thomas had ever been to my flat, and at that moment I knew why. My flat was my zone, where I could just be me, and it was the me I never took to work, therefore no one else ever got to see me. The last time someone had seen just Amy was when I said goodbye to PJ, and before that when I was with Garth. I had slipped back into my old comfortable mode of keeping to myself, and now suddenly there was Alex sitting opposite me at my little kitchen table getting a true eyeful of everything that was just Amy. Up popped the reservations again.

I awkwardly handed him a knife and fork and then watched him roll his eyes at them before unwrapping a set of plastic chop sticks that were at the bottom of the plastic bags. I felt embarrassed at the lack of culture I had – using a knife and fork like a clueless westerner. Throwing myself into being a cop day after day had left me lacking life experience and therefore I had never been much good with chop sticks. I'd had no one to teach me, and only ever seen it on tv, and even with that I couldn't master it. The next thing I knew he was reaching over the table and placing the chopsticks in my hand, curling my fingers around them in the correct way. "You're all set," he smiled as he sat back and watched me try to pick up some gooey cube of chicken. Of course, just as I bought it up to my mouth it fell off and landed in my lap, staining my favourite skirt. He laughed at me, a stark contrast from how he'd looked at the station. "I think you need some more practice Foxy." I rolled my eyes in response and picked up the piece of chicken with my fingers and popped it into my mouth defiantly before wiping at my skirt with a coarse white napkin from the bag.

We ate in silence after that – sans chopsticks for me – and just as I was about to bring up the situation Alex had himself in again, he broke the silence. "Why are you the way you are Amy Fox?" he asked.

Could he have asked a harder question? God, I didn't know! It was just me! If no one else could figure it out, what made them think I had a clue? I looked around the room, trying to control my breathing. It annoyed me how flustered I got with conversations like this. I had no trouble whatsoever when I was interrogating a burglar or a drug dealer, but when it came to something personal, something I usually kept hidden, I had such a hard time. When I said goodbye to PJ I could barely choke out a farewell at all because it was something I never thought I'd have to say and it was something I wasn't comfortable saying out loud and admitting. In the end I didn't even say what I had intended too, the moment just got too screwed up.

I decided to be a little cryptic, if only for my own sake. "Why are you the way you are Alex Kirby?" I smiled a smug smile at him, trying to hide my insecure side.

"I asked first," he replied. "You can't get out of this one!" he was almost finished with one box of food already, and was searching everywhere with his eyes over the remaining boxes of food, deciding what he would have. It gave me a moment almost entirely to myself – to think about my answer, to think of what I could say that wouldn't let me guard down totally. But shit it was difficult.

In the end I couldn't think of anything good to say and I just shrugged my shoulders at him, trying desperately to crawl back behind my invisible cape. "This is me," I answered. "I don't know why I'm like this and I don't know if it can be changed. Is that enough of an explanation for you?" I realized at the last minute that I sounded slightly angry, and I felt bad about using that tone towards him.

But as always with Alex Kirby, he took it on the chin and refused to allow my tone to offend him. Sometimes I think that is the whole problem with him, he's too nice, too willing to give chances and not easily offended or angered. Unlike myself I suppose. "There's nothing that needs to be changed Foxy," he sounded so reassuring I wanted to believe him so badly. "Don't think like that, I was just wondering. You're not the most forthcoming upfront person in the world," he cocked his head for a moment. "Not outside of the office anyway," he finished.

I didn't have a clue what to reply for once, so I just kept on eating and smiling shyly. It was so unlike me, but it seemed to be the only way I could act around Alex. I don't know what stopped me from being how I was around him in the station. I suppose I was being a bit of just Amy and a bit of Amy Fox that night. I wanted to be just Amy so that we could sort out his problem. But it was like I'd said to Uncle John that day I confronted him – I have never been able to fully commit or be intimate with a man since he ruined my life, and I know that to this day it still holds me back somewhat.

Alex wasn't fazed by my insecurities though and kept right on chatting. I was surprised, just an hour before he had been so down in the dumps and so worried that everyone thought he was bent and now here he was at my kitchen table chatting about anything and everything as if he had never heard the word corruption. "I admire the way you are Amy," I knew immediately he was being serious and not joking around at that point as he hadn't called me Foxy. "You work hard, you get results and you're a great detective. You get through to them," he smiled warmly at me.

The whole spiel took me back. I wasn't used to compliments. Amy Fox just worked through everyday doing her job and putting crooks behind bars. She didn't get compliments. Maybe if she had a man in her life she would, but she didn't. Again, I didn't know how to react to what he had said and I had no clue as to what to answer. I felt my cheeks redden profusely and I fiddled with my skirt hem under the table where he couldn't see my trembling hands. I felt my breathing become uneven and I knew my mouth was about to spit out some really disappointing conclusion to our night.

"It's getting late," I whispered – I wanted to slap myself! My head had told me to say that and it had just slipped out. I watched Alex's eyes, looking really deeply into them for the first time and I saw him briefly falter. I knew he was disappointed that I was hinting to him that it was time he left, but I couldn't continue with the probing into my private life. It made me feel incredibly uncomfortable and I knew I wouldn't be able to start breathing normally again until he was gone. That was how extreme I got – my breathing got out of hand in situations like these. Situations like these didn't happen that often to Amy Fox though and that was why I had little idea of how to control it and keep my composure – not to mention keep my breathing in tact.

A second later he was all smiles again though, and dabbed at his mouth surprisingly elegantly with the horrible coarse napkins from the takeaway. He shuffled out his chair and gathered up his jacket and keys. I got up to meet him, to see him out the door and as we both put the food boxes back into the bag for the rubbish our hands brushed slightly and I gulped down a huge barrel of air, almost making me hiccup. But Alex 'cool' Kirby just grinned and shoved the rest of the rubbish into the plastic bag. I walked cautiously towards the door and waited there until he had reached me. I watched him putting his jacket on effortlessly as he walked towards me, still grinning that darn grin. "We should do this again," he said.

My eyes fell downwards, embarrassed and afraid at the same time. But to my surprise my head gave the slightest nod – so slight I wasn't even sure he would have noticed it. "Thanks for the company Amy," he whispered, his face getting closer and closer to mine. My eyes were still downward, avoiding his eyes, avoiding admitting anything. "I really appreciate it." He leant over and kissed my cheek strongly and confidently. I was taken aback yet again but before I realized he was out the door and getting into his car, starting up the engine in the still night. As he reversed down the driveway I finally lifted my gaze and watched as he drove away. I put my hand to my cheek and felt the warmth that still remained there. In spite of myself, I smiled.

I walked in a cloud to my room and crawled into bed. There was a warmth in my chest I hadn't felt for such a long time. In fact, I couldn't even remember the last time I had felt it. A little tear squeezed out of my eye when it occurred to me that maybe I had never felt it before. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my hands linked behind my head and I thought about Alex. I felt a bit weird thinking about him, and tried to put him out of my head for a while, refusing to admit to the night that maybe I cared about what happened to him. But after a while I let it all go and I could see his face in my mind, scared and afraid that his career was in jeopardy.

For once in my life though, I didn't know what to do. Normally I can find an answer for police work. It's always just a matter of a new avenue – bringing in a suspect for 'just one more' chat, raiding another property, talking to my contacts in Melbourne, talking to the Boss for some fatherly, sensible advice. But not this time. I didn't know what the hell to do, and I knew Alex did either. I hadn't asked him, but somehow I knew that this was his first taste of corruption, just like it was mine. And it already felt scarily close. But I knew, from the moment he kissed my cheek, that we were in it together.

The next night, at the end of shift – I can't really call it that though, D's don't have structured 'shifts' like uniforms do, and it's probably why I get to the office earlier and stay later. Anyway, the station had begun to empty out and the phones had been diverted and I was stuffing my files into my briefcase to take home with me. Even just Amy does work at home. As I wrestled with the files, trying in vain to get them to all fit inside, I heard footsteps and looked up to see Alex hovering at the door to my office. "You leaving Foxy?" he asked, stretching his arms up to the ceiling and giving a tell tale yawn.

I smiled, the warm feeling creeping into my chest again. "Yeah, I'm gonna lock up in a minute," I replied, standing up and turning off the overhead lamp. "Feel like getting some takeaway again?" Had I really just said that? I stared at him, not really waiting for an answer, but disbelieving in myself that I'd even spoken such a thing.

As I should have expected, he seemed delighted at the invitation. "Your place or mine?" he asked smugly, starting to head out through the station to the back door, eying me as he walked making me follow.

"Mine," I answered, not at all prepared to go further than we had the night before, so I certainly wasn't going to eat Thai in _his_ kitchen. That would be going out of my comfort zone and across the road entirely. He nodded in reply and got into his car just as I reached mine.

"Will you pick me up in half an hour and we'll go grab it? I don't trust you to buy what I like," he narrowed his eyes at me, and my mouth fell open. But then he smiled. "Just playin' with 'ya Amy! But pick me up ok?" he slammed his door and started the engine even before I could squeak out an answer. I nodded in a vague answer as reversed out beside me and when he saw my nod he gave me the thumbs up and roared away, still smiling.

I must've stood there for another five minutes before I even got into the car and drove home. What was I getting myself into? I shook my head in a fog. Suppose it's better to be getting myself into Alex than into corruption…did I just say getting myself into Alex? Jesus! I kept driving, finally making it back to my flat. I walked through the door and straight to my room, not throwing stuff aside and kicking off the shoes down the hallway as most people do when they get home from work. No Amy Fox is much too set in her ways for that. The shoes went straight into the closet and the briefcase sat at the end of the bed. I took a moment to sit and reflect on what the day had been like…another habit of mine, but before I was ready I got up and opened the closet again searching for something to wear. Last night had been so easy – we'd just come straight from work, no need to change, no need to impress, but tonight was a totally different story. For once in my life I cared about what I looked like, and stared at the clothes that hung in front of me frustrated beyond comprehension. Nothing seemed right, but I scolded myself, telling myself that I certainly wasn't going to leave the house naked – and I certainly couldn't just keep my work clothes on – so something from this closet would have to do.

Fifteen minutes later I was ready to leave and hopped into the car almost confident with how I looked and planning what I was going to say when I saw him again. It was like teenage love giddiness struck ten years later than it was supposed to. My teenage years were never ever about love. Ever. I can barely remember school, probably because I just worked through it like I did everything else. On automatic pilot, no sense, no feeling.

Alex was sitting on the front step of his house when I pulled up and as soon as I was in the driveway he shot up and power walked to my car, sliding into the passenger seat with ease. Five minutes later we were in the main drag and I parked parallel in a space by the park. I went to undo my seat belt before Alex's hand landed on mine at the base of the belt. "Don't," he said quietly. "I'll go get it, you stay here," he smiled and climbed out of the car. Like a child on his way to school, he looked left, then right, then left again, and crossed the busy street into the Thai takeaway. I took the opportunity to relax and finally take a breath after a busy day at work and sunk down in my seat slightly. My eyes were always watching him though, standing at the counter waiting in line, and then joking with the man at the register. His actions made me smile. There was something about Alex that could make me smile, but I didn't know what it was. And at that moment I didn't really care to know. All that seemed to matter was that he could make me smile. I know that I don't smile much – the others at the station probably don't even know if I have teeth!

I jiggled the keys in the ignition again as I saw Alex come out of the takeaway, two bags in his hands. Again, he looked both ways and darted stealthily across the road, jogging towards my car. I sat up straighter as he approached and as I did so I caught a glimpse of a dark figure in the rear vision mirror. Before I had the chance to yell to Alex that the figure was definitely holding a weapon and it was definitely pointed at him, the shot rang out with Alex just metres from the passenger door of my car. The takeaway bags flew into the air as Alex was catapulted to the ground, the pure force of the bullet meaning I heard every one of his bones slamming onto the pavement. It all seemed to last an eternity, and it was playing before my eyes seemingly in slow motion. But no matter how slow I could not even move, could not even speak and could not possibly look in the rear vision mirror again in fear of what I might see. I was rooted to the spot in stunned silence, like I had lost every detecting gene in my body. It was like I wasn't even a cop. A cop would've got out of the car instantly, even faced the gunman if the opportunity arose, but I could not move.

Still I think it was only seconds later that my legs finally ground into life and I sprang from the car, banging my knee on the edge of the door as I raced out. I ran around the front of the car, my hand swiping the bonnet as I ran, feeling the heat of the motor inside. Alex was lying so still, lifeless almost, except for the uneven, quick rising and lowering of his chest. His eyes were half closed, the lashes of them just fluttering at me as I knelt beside him. I gave a scream in help, but I know no one heard me. I had lost it completely and was crying uncontrollably into his chest but as always Alex kept his cool. He might've just been shot, but he was still there with a soothing word or two of reassurance. I just stared back at him through my tears, which fell and stained his denim jacket like dark little splashes of ink. He just smiled up at me, so calm I figured that was why I was so hysterical. I was being hysterical enough for the both of us, and I was mortified at Alex, even in the condition he was in, seeing me lose it so much like this.

I came to my senses soon enough though and gulped in a few breaths of fresh night air. I dug around in the pocket of my jeans for my phone with my right hand and held Alex's hand with my left, gripping it so tight that it was beginning to slip away because of the sweat that had formed there from holding his hand so closely. I fumbled with the mobile in my haste to call an ambulance and when I finally managed to dial the number I didn't even identify myself as a police officer and was therefore put on hold, not important enough to receive a human voice speaking to me. I almost exploded in anger right there by the roadside – I thought being put on hold by emergency services was only something that happened in America - and was tempted to throw the phone against the pavement, but decided against it at the last minute when I glanced again into Alex's eyes and saw the rawness of the bullet wound in his upper arm, and how much it was bleeding.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and spoke to Alex. "We're going to the hospital ok?" It wasn't even really a question; I just wanted him to know what was going to happen. I slipped my hand and then my arm underneath his neck and shoulders, lifting him up off the ground slightly, then got a better grip on his torso and he struggled to his feet. His legs were flimsy and stumbled as he tried to stand, wincing in the pain of the wound, but I grabbed a hold of him as securely as I could and helped him into the passenger seat. As I sat him down I noticed that his blood had already dripped onto the upholstery of the seat, ruining the look of my relatively new car. But at that moment it didn't matter, it would just serve as a constant reminder of what had happened.

We raced towards the hospital, and as I drove I kept one eye on him and one of the road. He seemed comfortable enough, only wincing when I went over speed humps or turned corners. It hurt me to see him in such pain and it probably made me drive even faster. I wanted to kick myself for not keeping the blue light in my car 'for emergencies' as I used to. When I'd got to Mt Thomas it seemed I never had to use my own car for work – personal life never came into work life – and so I had taken out my blue flashing light from under the seat and given it back to the Boss. How I wished I had it with me right then though.

When I reached the entrance of the hospital, I left Alex sitting in the passenger seat as I ran into the emergency. A nurse and a male doctor followed me out and bundled Alex smoothly onto a stretcher, reassuring me the entire time that he was going to be fine, not one word of which I believed for even a second. I was shunted into a tiny waiting room as they took him away to remove the bullet and patch him up. No one else showed, not even Jonesy, and I felt more alone than ever as I sat numbly in the waiting room, waiting for news, waiting for confirmation, waiting for a doctor, waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally, just before 10pm the male doctor from earlier sauntered into the room, his eyes on me.

"He's fine," he smiled, sitting beside me in the hard plastic chair. "We've removed the bullet and bandaged him up. It was actually a very good place to be shot – not much damage at all."

I was annoyed and spat out my words harshly. "Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better," I replied, frowning at him.

"Of course, I apologise," he seemed genuinely embarrassed for taking the whole situation so lightly. "He's sleeping now, we want to leave him be for a while, just to let his whole body settle down."

"Can I see him?" I asked, hoping with every ounce of my being that he would say yes.

"Unfortunately no," the doctor replied, avoiding my eyes, I suppose in fear that I would snap at him again. "Visiting hours are already well over and you shouldn't be in here as it is," he stood up and looked down at me where I sat. "He's sleeping anyway, there's not much you could do if you saw him. You're more than welcome to come back in the morning though," he said, as if that was good enough for me. But I didn't have the strength to argue. For once I gave up the fight, and as much as I didn't want to, I accepted the situation, thanked him and walked out the way I had come in.

Later I lay in bed, hiding under the covers, desperate to hide from the world. I had put just Amy on the table and look what had happened! I was devastated and so unsure of what to do. At the same time I was afraid of what had now become of Alex and I, and I knew we could never ever go back to what we had been just 24 hours earlier. Oh but how I wished we could.

I was mad at Alex too, for allowing himself to be so easily duped. As cops we all know how careful we need to be with just about everything, but I know we all let our guards down every now and then. God, even I had the moment Alex sat across from me at my kitchen table pigging out on Thai food. But it didn't make me any less mad at him, and my anger stirred me into angry dreams. I was haunted all night long with images of that shadowy figure in my rear vision mirror, a mirror I would never be able to look into again without thinking of Alex being shot.

My mobile rang out at the ungodly hour of 5am, waking me from my troublesome nightmares. I picked it up from the bedside table groggily and spoke into the receiver. "Fox," I slurred, my usual greeting.

"What the hell happened to Alex last night Amy!" It was Evan, of course. I sat up in bed and peeled the covers from my legs, not wanting to try to explain to him lying down. Minutes later I had agreed to meet him at the hospital where he could have the full story.

As I had hoped, I reached the hospital before he did though and I stormed into emergency, leaning heavily on the counter and asking for Alex Kirby. I was directed down the hall way and into room 14 where Alex lay silently, much like he had been the night before I guessed. My slamming of the door sure shook him out of that renaissance though, and his eyes sprang open only to see a very angry detective at his bedside. He should've been grateful it wasn't ESD – they should've been there by now, but to Alex's advantage I was still the only person who knew that he was in any sort of trouble. I suppose the fact that even his best friend didn't know he was in a spin should've been a comfort to me – the fact that he had chosen to talk to me first, or rather he'd decided to divulge his troubles to me rather than anyone else. But I was still steaming mad at this whole situation he had got himself – and me – into.

"Foxy," he said, plain as day and normal as ever. He looked better than I expected, but then I didn't really know what to expect because I hadn't been able to see him the night before after I bought him into emergency. But by my untrained, completely non-medical eye, he looked just fine and dandy. It made me want to grab him by the collar even more because he looked like he could handle it more than I had previously thought he would be able to.

"Don't you Foxy me," I replied, standing over him like a mean school principal. My hands were on my hips and my blood boiling, but suddenly, a lot sooner than I wanted, the blood pressure went back down and I wimped out. I couldn't yell and scream at him after what had happened over the past couple of days. So instead I cried. I was so ashamed of falling to pieces in front of him that I turned away and cried into my hand as my other arm was folded across my chest. I shielded my eyes from it all and felt the lump get bigger in my throat as my shoulders heaved and I felt the tears on my cheeks. Why do big things like this make me fall apart? It was so annoying, just like it was when I said goodbye to PJ or Alex asked me why I was the way I was.

"Amy," he called out to me, but I couldn't turn around, I just couldn't. It was bad enough that I was an emotional wreck; I wasn't going to let him see it face on. At that moment Jonesy entered the room and I didn't know where to turn. Everyone could see me and my tears and no one was ever supposed to see Amy Fox cry. But what else could I do? Before I could think about it I was lead out of the room by Evan and into the hallway where he wrapped his arms around me and just held me. I was surprised at first, but then I just let loose, crying into his shoulder, feeling his big, caring arms around me. It was just a comfortable, friend to friend hug, exactly what I needed at that moment. It was nothing more than that – after working with Evan for so long now I knew he and I were not ever going to be anything other than colleagues and friends and I think that is what allowed me to let go so much to him.

Just let me hold you while you're falling apart

You may need me there

To carry all your weight

But you're no burden I assure you

"Oh Evan," I was so embarrassed, but somehow I just kept right on talking, exposing every bit of my insides that I had never planned to. "I was so scared….just right there in the street…I saw them…in the rear vision mirror…he fell…I heard him hit the ground…" I was hiccupping and gasping and breathing heavily as I tried to get it all out. The look on Evan's face spelt utter confusion, but he seemed to just know that I needed to be held, and so we stood closer than I've ever been to Evan Jones, for the longest time. It helped me incredibly to gather my thoughts. After a while I had gathered myself together enough to go back into room 14 and face Alex, who was of course, lying exactly where he had been when I'd walked out.

But he was asleep. The doctor had warned me about that. His body needed a chance to recover - getting shot was a big deal after all – and so there he was pushing up z's. I sat down in the chair beside his bed, held onto his hand and watched him as he slept, wondering what in the world we were going to do about…everything. I was involved now, I couldn't not do anything, and someone was after Alex. He was living on the edge, just like I said all cops do, but he was living on the edge about to be pushed.

Later, when he still had not awoken, I left and made my way to the station. I walked in, knowing there would be a silence engulfing the station all day long – it happens when one of us gets hurt – and tried to avoid anyone's eyes, even Evan's. I shut myself in my office and tried to find out everything I could about this chick Alex had romanced. And her father. It was their fault he'd been shot – I just knew, with every bone in my body – that it was them. They'd been so cowardly that they didn't even dare to do it in daylight – they had to do it at night, where the darkness was the perfect disguise and escape. But I was going to get them. I realized, with everybody's eyes boring holes through my blinds, that I would need the help of the team on this one though, so I got up and walked into the main hub of the station, noticing instantly how everyone tried to look busy and as if they hadn't been just staring into my office windows.

"Evan, Susie, I need you," I said before the Boss appeared at his door. He looked at me with narrow eyes, and I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

"Detective? A word?" he asked, going back into his office and reclining into his chair. Evan followed me, but Susie did not. She knew it wasn't her place.

I walked into the Boss's office, anything but eager to speak with him. I just wanted to get out there and find the bastard that shot Alex and prove that he wasn't a bent copper. Perhaps the Boss could read my mind, because he seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. I have always found he's good like that, he just knows, and it constantly comes in handy during tough situations. Today though, I wasn't so sure it would. He didn't know the half of it.

"What are you planning to do Detective?" he asked casually as Jonesy and I stood in front of him, his fingers laced together in his lap and his glasses sitting on the tip of his nose.

I lost my cool for a moment, letting the heated side of me show. "I'm going to get the bastard who did this to Alex Boss!" I yelped. Evan put a hand on my forearm in an effort to calm me down, and it helped. Slightly.

The Boss didn't let my words faze him though. "And how do you think you're going to go about that? By dragging my uniforms into a very dangerous situation?"

"Hey I can do it on my own if I have to," I retorted feeling head strong and confident. "I'm the only one who knows all the details here anyway!"

"And you're not going to share?" the Boss quizzed. He leant onto his desk and waved his tell tale finger at me, looking down his nose and through his glasses. "Kirby is in a tight spot, and I know you know more than you're letting on about it. But if you're not going to inform the rest of us then you do not have the right to use my people for your man hunt," he sounded angry, and looking back, I really couldn't blame him.

"Fine!" I replied, spinning on my heel. "I'll sort this out myself," I was pissed, and didn't care if I insulted him or not. He wasn't my superior; I didn't have to work to his rules. I was out of there. I stalked down the hallway and out the back entrance, Evan at my heels.

"Amy!" he called as I hopped into the CI car. I looked up as I started the engine. "Amy, don't do anything stupid ok?" he told me through the open window. I gave a distracted smile and took off.

My first stop was the hospital, for the third time in less than 24 hours. I knew the hallways well by then, and walked quickly to Alex's room. He was sitting up, staring out the window with a bored expression on his face, his arm in a complex, uncomfortable looking sling. I walked in without knocking and my footsteps got his attention immediately. He looked over.

"Amy!" he said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Why shouldn't I be here?" I asked, almost taking offence. "I bought you in here last night you know, don't I deserve visiting rights?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, of course you do, sorry," he replied. His face soon turned serious though. "You want info don't you?"

"How did you guess?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I can't tell you Amy," he said, as if forgetting he had already spilled some of his guts to me over Thai takeaway just days before. "I don't want you to get involved…I don't want you to get hurt," his good hand came to rest on mine and he looked deeply into my eyes.

"Alex, I already am involved!" I answered, frustrated. "I was the one who confronted you with the corruption allegation remember? You told me about romancing this girl, and you told me her father was a stand over man. I can't just let it drop. I'm in til the end now," I hoped feverishly he understood what I truly meant. I couldn't let him go through something like this without being there right beside him.

"Oh Foxy, no," Alex closed his eyes.

"Yes Alex!" I persisted. "Just give me a name, we can sort this out, you can be safe again," now I was starting to beg and to my dismay tears were yet again forming in my eyes. They made me realize how much Alex meant to me.

At last Alex relented, giving me an address and her name. "But don't do anything stupid Amy," he echoed Evan.

I was out of there like a shot, making my way to the very edge of town to the old holiday hut Alex had described. It was everything he said it was, and made me think of the house I'd called on to deliver my first death notice. It had been one just like this, with the little verandah and gum trees and everything. Hell, it had even been this time of day.

I parked down the road and approached with caution, my right hand always on my pistol. It appeared that no one was home, but you could never be too careful. I looked in the kitchen window, the bedroom window, the living room window. Nothing. Dammit, they weren't home. I didn't know what I would've done if they were, but it was still annoying. That's the thing about police work. You never know what you're going to do until the very last moment, and when that moment comes you just have to pray it was the right choice

I walked dejectedly back to the car, my head down, not even noticing what was around me. But suddenly in front of me was a body and a hand held out to stop me from walking into him. I gave a frightened yelp only to discover it was Alex looking every bit as though he'd been shot the night before. "I told you not to do anything stupid Amy," he said, giving me a death glare. "You came out here by yourse- "

"Checking up on me were you Alex?" an ugly little runt of a blonde – definitely bottle blonde though – came up behind me and had a pistol wedged into my spine. My mouth flew open and my breath caught in my throat as I stared profusely at Alex and begged him with my eyes to get her and that weapon away from me. It was almost the most awful feeling I'd ever felt – people who know me know what the most awful feeling I've ever felt is – having a gun in my back, cocked and ready to be fired. I trembled as we stood there, me, Alex and the girl who I now came to realize was the stand over man's daughter.

"Ella…baby…" he tried to reason with her, but I knew she wasn't going to buy it.

"Shut up you little prick!" she screeched into my ear. She tussled me around and made me walk towards the hut, the gun still wedged into my back. Alex ran to be beside me and as we walked I reached for his hand, something I did unconsciously. But it made me feel just that little bit safer. He smiled at me when I reached for it and gave my hand a squeeze, silently pledging that he would stick with me.

We sat in the front room of the hut for more than two hours, Ella and her father deciding what their next plan of action was going to be. I hoped desperately Kelly or Joss would pass the hut on patrol as they sometimes did and see the CI car and smell a rat. It was probably our only chance of getting out of there.

Alex sat on the cold floor, which was covered with a daggy, worn out Persian rug. I sat right there next to him, still holding his hand so that we could at least feel scared as hell together. I knew it bought him the same comfort it did me. I watched Ella stalk in and out of the room to speak with her father in the kitchen. Each time she went she was gone for longer and a plan began to form in my head. She'd taken my pistol so I had nothing to defend myself, but I was a good runner, and I thought I could rely on Alex to run a bit to if need be. The window by the door was partly open and I noticed that they were the same windows I had had in a flat in Prahran. They were easy to open and made little noise. I remembered because I was always a bit concerned that someone could easily come into my flat through one of the windows and I would be none the wiser because the window made no noise as you opened it. They also had very dodgy locks on them – sometimes they wouldn't lock at all. The one by the door in Ella's hut was already half open - a serious lack of planning on her part, I guess not all crims are smart – and I saw our opportunity right there. I shuffled quietly beside Alex and indicated to the window with my eyes. He caught on immediately and sat up a little straighter. I helped him to his feet and we crept over to the window, taking care with every step, knowing Ella could come back into the room at any moment. Alex slipped out first, landing softly on the grass of the front yard outside. I slipped out just as quickly, and together we ran for our lives back towards the CI car. It seemed so far away and as we reached the entrance to the property where the letterbox was, I saw Ella come back into the room out of the corner of my eye. We were far enough away to dive into a mound of blackberries to hide without her seeing us, and as we crouched there, Alex's face white and pasty in post shooting shock I suppose, we breathed heavily together, but in time. I reached for my mobile, which was tucked safely into an inner pocket of my jacket and dialled the station. I got Evan after just one ring – I had the funny feeling he'd been just waiting for me to call, he has a sixth sense like that – and I whispered quickly into the phone.

"Get your arses to 346 Ketches Gorge Road right now. Bring everyone. NOW!" I figured that was all he needed to know, and I knew I could trust him to get the troops organised. I also knew he'd break records for getting to where he needed to be, and Ella and her father would never have enough time to escape. It might sound as though I had such a clear head through all of this, but I really didn't. Like all police work it was just fly by the seat of your pants stuff, moment by moment, one choice to the next.

I needn't have been worried that we'd not be ok. The cavalry arrived sooner than even I thought Evan could get them there, Ella and her father were ambushed getting into the family station wagon and they spent the night in the cells whilst the team worked overtime going through every single thing Ella and her father were up for. They had got away with way too much in the past and now their pasts were catching up with them. It felt good to see them suffer, and to prove finally that Alex was not bent.

Alex and I sat in the mess room later that afternoon sipping well earned cups of coffee. He seemed lost in his thoughts and dazed, but then I had expected him too. After all the drama of the day I suddenly remembered that something had happened, or maybe I should say, developed, between the two of us over the last 48 hours. We weren't the same people we were at the beginning of the week, and despite everything it still scared me a little.

"Thanks for everything Amy," he seemed hesitant, as if not sure how to say what he wanted to. "I mean…just…thanks," he blushed as he spoke, his eyes downcast, just like mine had been the night he kissed me and flew out my front door. "You believed in me."

"Of course I believed in you Kirby," I mentally slapped myself for going back to my Amy Fox ways so quickly. "Alex…" I corrected myself.

"No but you really believed in me. Enough to want to help me and that means a lot," his gaze finally fell into mine and he grabbed both my hands, pulling them away from my coffee mug. "You're one in a million Foxy," he smiled and then before I knew it, he had grabbed my lips with his own and made me give in to something I think I should've given in to a long time ago. My mind raced and my heart beat wildly as we kissed and I felt comfortable at last back in someone's arms.


End file.
